


The complex phenomena of life

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, During Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8705497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: when you fall in love with your brother, your first instinct is to run.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** not beta'd, all mistakes are on me.  
>  this is my first supernatural fic

Your entire body stumbles backwards into the dark abyss. You don’t know what time it is, or even what day it is, but you do know that the sky is pitch-black and you can’t see the stars. And that terrifies you in a way. 

You spent your entire youth planning escape. 

 

Despite the older brother who will inevitably sell his soul to an eternity of damnation for you, you left. You can blame it on dad. You can accuse his fixation of the yellow eyed demon to have pushed you away. In reality, the part of you that you tried to bottle up years ago, knows the truth of why you had to leave.

 

 

You’re fucked up. You remember being fifteen and spending the summer in Nebraska with Dean while dad was on a hunt two states over. It was 103 degrees and humid as hell. The air conditioner broke, and Dean had barely managed to hustle enough money playing pool to buy a fan from the convenient store down the street.

 

You spent the summer tangled up in each other on that couch in front of the fan. Dean was nineteen and beautiful. He stopped looking so gangly and started packing on muscle. When you told him so, he looked at you and laughed, “Sammy don’t be jealous, not all of us can be ruggedly handsome and buff.”

 

You were already two inches taller than him by then though. You were also scared shitless when the two of you ended up on the floor wrestling and you got hard, jumping up as fast as possible and running to the bathroom, claiming you needed to piss. 

 

Dean never let on that he knew something strange was going on with you, well, at least not at first. Sometimes in the middle of the night he would shake you awake, claiming he thought you were having a nightmare. You just shook it off, even though you knew it wasn’t a nightmare. Dreaming of sucking your older brother’s cock in the backseat of the Impala wasn’t a nightmare. You just hoped you weren’t screaming Deans name out loud. 

 

You remember being seventeen years old and walking in on Dean jerking off. He didn’t even notice you standing there, watching him stroke his cock to the sound of two men having sex. You tried walking out unnoticed but your foot caught on the door and Dean yelling out “Jesus Christ! What the fuck do you think the door is closed for? Fuck Sam,” as he zipped his jeans up and turned the tape off in record speed. And that kind of caught you off guard, because walking in on Dean jerking off wasn’t anything new. He usually just shrugged it off with a coy grin and some smartass response and told you to kindly get the fuck out of the room.

 

That time neither of you had said anything. You stared at the dirt stained carpet underneath your feet, trying to look anywhere but the brother who just caught you watching him jerk off. Dean, as usual, took the silence as disapproval. Eyes wide and mouth agape, Dean gritted out, “Fuck off man, didn’t expect you to be the homophobic type,” and tried to walk off. You remember pushing your older brother back into the door, “Dean I’m not, I just didn’t know that you…” You trailed off, and for one fucked up moment you stopped thinking and pressed your mouth against your older brothers. 

 

He kissed back, warm lips and teeth. And it didn’t feel weird, or strange like it should. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, like blinking and breathing and loving Dean. About 3.4 seconds later Dean’s reflexes kicked in, delayed by shock most likely, slammed you to the ground and took off. That’s when you realized just how fucked up you are.

 

Dean never mentioned it again. You brought it up once when the two of you got drunk one night when dad was on a hunting trip, and Dean punched you in the face and made you bleed. You never brought it up again after that. and made you bleed. You never brought it up again after that.

 

You remember being nineteen and getting your acceptance letter to Stanford. Three months later you had everything packed and convinced Dean to drive you to the bus station. He punched you again that night, right in the nose. You bled all over your jeans. You remember him asking you, “What, Sammy? You think runnin’ away is gonna solve your problems? You think runnin’ away from your family is going to make you normal? Sorry man, but you’re just as fucked up as me.” 

 

You remember the liquid green in Dean’s eyes froze solid and pleading, silently begging like a madman for you to stay. His eyes showed love and need, and were the reason Sam had to get as far away from Dean as fast as possible. Falling in love with your brother fucked your life more than hunting a wendigo in the middle of the woods with your father and brother did. 

 

So you grabbed your bag from the Impala and left. You went to Stanford, fell in love and planned your future. You were finally normal, at least until Jess burnt alive on your ceiling and Dean saved you from dying in a fire again. 

 

A week later you’re in the passenger seat of the Impala next to Dean, and it’s about 3 in the morning, but you aren’t sure. The shock of Jess dying has finally sunk in, and everything just fucking hurts. You think of your past, and how fucked up your life is. You’re still in love with your brother. You keep replaying that kiss until you fall asleep next to your brother. 

 

Dean’s smacking your arm, “Sammy wake the fuck up, you’re having a nightmare.” You flinch away from his touch and hope he doesn’t notice, but he does. He pulls the Impala over and gets out of the car. You get out of the car to follow him. Dean turns around and punches you in the nose. Again. At this moment you’ve decided whenever Dean punches you in the nose, you have clearly fucked up. 

 

You’re about to punch back when his fist comes in contact with your jaw, sending you stumbling backwards into the dark. You notice there aren’t any stars. Just Dean, the Impala, and you. And that fucking _terrifies_ you for some reason. In this moment, you realize just how insignificant you are. But the sky is black, and you’re trapped in this moment with Dean. There’s blood gushing from your nose and staining your jeans. All you want is to go back to that day you fucked everything up. 

 

This is the complex phenomena of life. You’re unsure of the future. You fucked up your past. And yet you’re still alive, trying to mend open wounds you inflicted upon your brother. You’re still trying to run away from him.

 

 

Dean walks towards you, but instead of yelling or getting punched again, he pushes you up against the side of the Impala and presses his mouth to yours. He grabs your wrists and pins them to the car, all while kissing you with his teeth, messy and rough. You moan, the sound foreign and unexpected, and he bites your lip and makes you bleed. 

 

“Dean, wait,” you gasp.

Dean bites you again, “Sammy, shut the fuck up for once.”

You laugh and kiss him back

 

The phenomenon of your life is Dean. And you’ve finally stopped running.


End file.
